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[indent][sup][color=ab274f][b]Attire:[/b][/color]
[color=ab274f][b]Date and Time:[/b][/color] Sola 21st, Midnight
[color=ab274f][b]Location:[/b][/color] Bedroom balcony
[color=ab274f][b]Mention(s):[/b][/color]
[color=ab274f][b]Interaction(s):[/b][/color]
[/sup][/indent][/cell][/row][/table]It was late into the night, but though the day had been thoroughly tiring, sleep had evaded the prince. He’d distracted himself with paperwork and planning. Eventually, he went into his room – but not yet to bed.

Wearing a luxurious dark blue nightgown, the thin silk of it caressing his skin, Wulfric retreated to the balcony attached to his bedroom. He brought along a glass with a drink he’d mixed, and a bottle of spirits.

He set the items on the railing. Then, leaning his hands on the rail, he jumped onto it in one swift, graceful movement. He settled himself on top; one leg folded at an angle, the other hung freely, swaying minutely. Not once did he glance down, unconcerned at the height. Instead, he tilted his head upwards, gazing at the starry night sky.

[color=ab274f]“To Midsummer,”[/color] he intoned. Any celebrations of such would be held in some three days, but astronomically, the solstice was on this very day. 

His hand sought the chilled glass next to him. As his fingers made contact with the cold surface, he grasped it, and held it aloft. A strangely nostalgic smile formed as he lifted the drink, angling it this way and that. In the amber liquid within, he captured the image of the moon and the stars.

Wasn’t that the dream? To reach the stars? 

An amused huff was issued as he suddenly remembered something. [color=ab274f][i]Is that why the moniker?[/i][/color] He couldn’t help but wonder as he recalled the name ‘Starcatcher’.

[color=ab274f]“All the possibilities imaginable and not…”[/color] he murmured.

Perhaps it really was an indication of man’s unquenchable desire and ambition. To look up in awe, witness an amazing sight, and think, [color=ab274f][i]I want this.[/i][/color]

Sometimes, Wulfric felt like his very spirit could get enflamed by such a fantastical notion. To have, and to conquer, to set forth a bright blazing trail–

But for what? Vengeance? Justice? [i]Glory?[/i]

Just to see if he could?

Questions like that were what made him feel old. At least ten years too old. But no, even back then…

He shook his head to dismiss the notion, as confounding as it was melancholy.

[color=ab274f]“Longest day of the year, indeed,”[/color] he commented. With a dry chuckle, he took a sip of the cocktail. A long sigh left his lips, a note of pleasure colouring his tone. His eyes shut, lashes gently fluttering close, laying to a rest upon his cheeks.

When he opened them after a moment, his expression was tranquil. Yet his gaze was distant as he stared far, far beyond.

[color=ab274f]“What would [i]you[/i] think of all this?”[/color] he queried quietly, the question seemingly directed at the sky.

What followed was a long period of silence. Though, interspersed with it was the occasional soundless movement of his lips. His expression remained largely blank with the exception of very minute changes here and there.

He reminisced on key events of the past several months, though largely focused on the present day. This was how these one-sided ‘chats’ tended to go, when he cared to have one.

Years ago, he had, from time to time, dared imagine what it would be like to hold a conversation if they were both right there, side by side. But now, he could barely recall the voice. It was the faintest whisper of a memory, faded with time, and lost to the past. He only had the vaguest ideas of the possible responses; how could he predict how a person might have been shaped by events they never had the chance to experience? Even that visage, as clear as it had once been, was now as ethereal as a phantom in a dream.

He finished his ponderings with a rare short prayer, barely heard. The soft utterance was entrusted to the winds to be carried onwards. [color=ab274f]“To the living and the dead; may our troubles be allayed, may your souls be ever at peace.”[/color] He concluded by finishing the last of his drink.

Wulfric rose, standing on the railing, and briefly closed his eyes. The breeze ruffled his hair, and susurrated against his silken outfit. He listened to the sounds of the night. The song woven by the wind blowing through the trees, rustling their leaves. The waters offering a pleasant background melody, the gentle lapping of the waves reaching even this far in the relative silence of the night, the rush of a distant waterfall heard as a soft hiss. The intermittent sounds of animals; crickets chirping, the bark of a dog, the hoot of an owl, the braying of a horse. The sounds of people; hushed and muted segments of conversations of those still awake, the clip-clop as a lone rider rode along the empty roads.

Opening his eyes, he watched the city for a moment longer, then hopped down. Before heading back inside, he poured another drink. From within a pocket, he withdrew a lighter and, carefully moving it close to the glass, lit the alcohol on fire. It blazed aflame; sudden, powerful, and eager. Wulfric stared at its playful, whimsical dance as it consumed his offering. In the end, he clinked the liquor bottle against the glass. [color=ab274f]“Cheers.”[/color]

Finally, he returned inside, leaving the flaming drink behind on the balcony.

Maybe it was pure sentimentality, but it was his way of sharing with someone who was gone.[/color]